


There was always pain

by Clockwork



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Going down with this ship, Post Series, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 03:25:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6356986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clockwork/pseuds/Clockwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He came and went as he pleased, but when he was there, he damn well better be there with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There was always pain

It wasn’t the tightness of his arms around her that brought Karen out of a light sleep, never able to do more than drift in and out of sleep whether she was alone or not. She was used to him shifting, changing positions, and yet always pulling her in closer, tighter to him so that their bodies had not even a breath between them. She was certain it was a need to keep her protected, even in his sleep, and it did leave her feeling that way. Yet it wasn’t that tight band of his arm around her chest that made Karen’s eyes flutter open, wriggling slightly as she found herself caught between the solid breadth of his chest against her back, and the calloused hand that came to rest between her breasts.

In the end it was that hand that had woken her, the soft tapping of his finger against her sternum, just over her heart, that had roused Karen from a sleep that was near always filled with dreams these days. Nightmares being closer to the truth, and many of them spawned by the man holding her, yet she never told him to leave when she found him in the shadows of the night, sitting in the chair in the corner of her room, watching her sleep.

Twice now she had woken with a start, maybe knowing she was no longer alone, maybe frightened once more by the memories of all that she had witnessed and done in such a short time. Whatever brought her to, her gaze had searched the dark, seeking midnight black among the dark shadows. Yet it wasn’t her gaze that found Karen some hint of solace in those moments as her heart raced, but rather the rasping rumble of his voice, her name on his tongue before he moved. Rising, moving closer. Not asking if he was welcome as his weight made the mattress dip, causing her to shift closer even if it wasn’t her desire. 

The first time had been only days after Matt’s revelation. Maybe it was confirmation, a truth she should have always known and yet didn’t want to acknowledge. Whether revelation or acknowledgement, Karen had been battling her own thoughts for days, and she had woken to Frank settled in the shadows of her bedroom, staying out of the paltry light from the new moon overhead. She should have told him to get the hell out, reminded him that he was dead to her. Instead she had reached out one pale hand, taking his own roughened hand and pulling him into the bed with her. 

Three days later his gear had disappeared from the corner of the room behind the door. Three nights of him sleeping any number of hours as if that was a place where he could find peace enough to sleep. Three nights of holding her close, whispering her name softly against her skin and avoiding any questions Karen asked. After he was gone it amazed Karen how easily he could distract her, could turn her head around and send her heart racing and wash away all of the traits that were making her a good reporter, someone that Ellison, and even Ben, would be proud of. She’d vowed then that she wouldn’t let it happen again.

Except it had. A few weeks later he had returned, chuckling at the way she hissed curses at him in the dark, awoken by the thunk of his boots hitting the floor. This time he had reached for her, pulled to him and silenced those words efficiently. Then... then he had only stayed a single night and day. Sleeping through the daylight hours and into the night so that she was exhausted and worn and pleasantly blissed out when he had vanished into the shadows once more. If not for the light bruises ghosting her hips, the fading marks of teeth on alabaster skin, Karen might have believed it all all the only pleasant dreams she might ever have again. 

The third time he hadn’t woken her when he came in. She’d been out drinking with Foggy and some of the girls from his firm, they had been laughing and teasing about him having all the loveliest ladies in town as his daughter for Valentine’s. She couldn’t argue that, but her heart hadn’t been in it though she’d drunk more than she should have, falling into bed still wearing the floral dress she’d donned for meeting Foggy and not expecting to wake no longer alone.

After all she had been through Karen should have been more startled, more upset to find someone in her bed, holding her hostage to their own needs. Instead she frowned because the world was spinning, and that tapping worried her. Because it came with his lips moving against the back of her neck, the words of the rhyme lost to the mumblings of sleep but she knew the rhythm nonetheless. 

He came and went as he saw fit, monopolizing her time, drowning his pain in sex and alcohol and a heavy sleep she envied. That Karen could handle, she even wanted. Him lost in the deaths and the losses while his hands roamed over her skin, his arms holding her tight against him, that was something she wouldn’t stand for. 

She moved suddenly, only getting the upper hand because he was asleep, and the alcohol still coursing through her blood made her believe she could do more than she might normally accomplish. He came to as she straddled his hips, skirt bunching about her thighs, the fabric rustling as her hands came down in a heavy thump on each shoulder. 

“Frank Castle,” she growled, eyes narrowing, peering at his face in the dark, making sure she had his attention. The light through the window highlighted his brow, the sharp line of one cheekbone, the rest hidden in shadows and stubble. “If you’re going to come crawling into my bed like a goddamn alley cat, you damn well better be here,” she muttered, her hands sliding over his chest, feeling the scars that marked his skin, the taut flesh and ripple of muscles as his hands moved, gripping the curve of her hips tightly.

“Where the hell else would I be?” His voice was heavier than usual, a rough hasp that showed how deep asleep he had been, how much he trusted him to sleep when he was there in that room.

“No where. Right where you’re supposed to be,” she murmured, bending down, her mouth capturing his. Half kiss. Half bite. Giving pain, even as she tried not to think about how many hours until she woke up alone again.


End file.
